


small sounds echo

by justrunamok



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Emotional Infidelity, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Hurt No Comfort, Implied/Referenced Infidelity, Other, Sad Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2020-12-15
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:00:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28086576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justrunamok/pseuds/justrunamok
Summary: there are things you cannot control. there are things that do not last.
Relationships: Implied Obi-Wan Kenobi/Satine Kryze, Obi-Wan Kenobi/Reader, Obi-Wan Kenobi/You
Comments: 2
Kudos: 41





	small sounds echo

It was obvious to you, the way it happened. Slow, constant drops of water carving a trail, a path in solid rock, unnoticed only by those who did not look.

The Duchess of Mandalore, ethereal in her beauty and so very regal, compassionate and fierce. You would have fallen for her too, had your love not belonged to him.

It happened in glances and steals, secret peeks as she commandeered the room, the people. He never looked for long, snapping out of his reverie as quickly as it had come, blood rushing to his cheeks as he berated himself. There were times when their paths would cross and a part of you _ached_ at how starstruck Obi-Wan became, eyes rounded and soft.

_Drip._

It happened in compliments and never-ending praise, monuments he erected with his words in Satine’s honour. He kept their banter light and witty, and she responded in like, a leader’s tone giving way to a sweet lilt. Even with you, it was as if he could not stop, tendrils of adoration curling around his every word when he spoke of her in the honey of his voice.

_Drip._

It happened in minutes and hours, their time discussing plans and travelling being the catalyst to it all. They were never aware of how it looked, heads bent together as they smiled bright, content to bask in each other’s attention. What used to be your days together became just _your days_ , spent alone as you watched Obi-Wan slip out of your fingers like sand in an hourglass.

_Drip._

He was not a cruel man, that you knew with certainty. And so it weighed on him, the burden of loving another while trying to save the love that was already there. He tried hard, _so hard,_ struggling to keep himself grounded to you even as the waters lapped at his feet, coaxing him away. At night, he would hold you close, rest his forehead against your neck as he mouthed his apologies and his shame into your skin.

* * *

It had been a week since you applied for reassignment, a week since you made the conscious decision to leave. The Council’s answer was playing on your holopad, a deep-reconnaissance mission on Nar Shaddaa, a clear homage to your skills in espionage. Obi-Wan tenses when he hears your new directives echo in your shared chambers, you were rarely sent on solo missions, not when the two of you worked so well together.

“The Council cannot simply thrust this upon you, I’ll bring this up with Master Windu.” Obi-Wan murmurs, free in his affection as he rubs your shoulders, his chest warm and solid at your back.

He was oblivious to how loudly the water _plinked._

Closing your eyes, you speak, “They did not thrust anything upon me. I _asked_ for this reassignment, my love.“

You know and feel the exact moment it sinks in, the stall of his fingers and the hitch in his breath betraying him. Even as his Force signature becomes saturated with his distress, he is gentle with you, the brush of his fingertips remain soft.

“Why would you do that?” The tremble of his hands against the lines of your forearms do not mirror his steady tone. 

You turn slowly, grasping the fabric of his tunic, unable to stop from leaning into his familiar heat. Obi-Wan is just as frenzied in how he grips your hips, the faintest of frowns showing as your eyes meet. You raise a hand to cup his face, fingers dancing over his skin.

“You love her, Obi-Wan. I see it.” 

Your silver-tongued negotiator falters, wanting so desperately to _not_ understand. But he knows the truth that you speak, just as you do. Slowly, he leans into your palm, something akin to defeat weighing him down into your touch.

"I will not lie to you. I am hurt, and for you to be the cause only amplifies it. But I know you.” It is your turn to comfort him, your words a balm you wish to lather over his shame. “You are a good man, so good I cannot seem to fathom you at times. You would have gone to the furthest-flung corners of the galaxy to save me from this pain.” 

In the muddied depths of his mind, Obi-Wan knows he deserves the guilt that has him slumping into you. Perhaps, this is what the poets mean when they spin stories of emotions seizing a person like tidal waves crashing upon the shore. You are his beacon in the rush of it all, constant even as you are battered by the force of the torrent he unleashed.

“I need you to know that I know this, Obi-Wan. That I believe you are as helpless and as blameless in this as I am." 

His tears are imprints on your robes but they go deeper than that, the moisture seeping into the crevices of your chest. He is mourning and you mourn with him.

"I love you, Obi-Wan. I say this not to spite you, but to remind you. Take comfort in the fact that you will always have a home in me, have your peace when you think of our years together. I know I will.” Your voice is nothing more than a whisper, but your words reverberate in the room.

Your lover does not speak, he does not have to, not when he struggles to remain upright, shaking under the flood of his conscience, his self-loathing. _Fitting,_ he thinks hazily, _to drown in the consequences of what his heart has done, to gasp for breath in the arms of the person he has wronged._

And yet, that same selfish, shadowed corner of him still asks for more. You are his anchor, you have been since the day he met you. Who will tether him when you go? How can you leave when you know that he will flail alone?

Furiously, he smothers that part of him, letting it whine away in silence. You do not deserve to be chained here, ever the faithful navigator while he looks elsewhere. You deserve to be the centre of someone’s world, not a mere tool to be utilized.

_Haven’t you broken enough vows, Kenobi? Let this be the line, let this be the last offering you lay at their feet._

For now, your embrace is warm and kind, forgiving the sinner he knows he has become. For now, he will take what he is given, Maker knows it is more than _he_ deserves. Maybe, once you have left and all he has of you are the wet of your footprints and the brine of your absence, he will hear the drip of water, the rush of a river and think of you.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm justrunamok on tumblr, come over for a yell :")


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